Double Back
by Rabble Rouser
Summary: A Vulcan Science Academy vessel commanded by Captain Tuvok discovers the planet of the Guardian of Forever and how two futures diverged.
1. Chapter 1

Story Notes:

Disclaimer: (c) 2007 Rabble Rouser/Harmony_bites. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur nonprofit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by Paramount or any other lawful holder.

This was the first story I ever wrote in about 2001 (and never revised, so keep that in mind). A special thanks to betas, Laura Michelle Hale and Seemag, for looking at the first two parts of this story and to Jat-Sapphire for poring through all of it and making this story much, much better—and for being my smut guru—but I'm still responsible for the clumsiness that remains. And thanks to Istannor for allowing an offscreen cameo.

Written as _**Rabble Rouser**_.

_"Actual events are nowise so simply related to each other as parent and offspring are; every single event in the world is the offspring not of one, but of all other events, prior or contemporaneous, and will in its turn combine with all others to give birth to new: it is an ever-living ever-working Chaos of Being, wherein shape after shape bodies itself forth from innumerable elements." Thomas Carlyle. _

v v v

Janeway was woken by the tremors of the ship. They had been getting more frequent and intense as the ship approached the source of the waves of time disturbance. She squinted at the chronometer and forced herself to come to full wakefulness. Dressing quickly, she grabbed the visor she would need to work in the ruddy light of the ship without strain.

She groaned as the hot air blasted her when her cabin door swooshed open. She could never acclimate herself to that heat. Lt. Paris told her she had only herself to blame. "Kate, if you just kept the temperature at ship normal you'd get used to it in no time." Janeway answered that she couldn't sleep in a furnace. The truth was she resented the necessity. The majority of the crew was human. Even if technically the ship were Vulcan and under a Vulcan command crew, she thought it unfair that the lighting and temperature were Vulcan-normal. Keeping her cabin's climate controls at Earth-normal was a way of exerting control over her own space at least. The only accommodation made to the human contingent was a compromise in the gravity and richness of the air.

Before heading to the bridge, Janeway went to check on several projects that were underway in the ship's labs. Because she was human, she had already risen as high as she could in the service. The Vulcan government felt uneasy that so many humans were serving on their ships and wanted to ensure they kept control. Humans could serve but not lead on Vulcan Science Academy ships. Like so many centrally made decisions, what may have seemed logical on a planetary headquarters was unworkable in the field, and the VSA ships quietly worked around the rules. Logic dictated that inefficient bureaucratic dictums be ignored.

As with many senior human officers on VSA ships, Janeway held far more responsibility than her rank and title would indicate. Although she held the rank of lieutenant, she acted unofficially as the ship's science officer. Vulcan prejudice and fears denied her the outward marks of her real authority. The result was a constant struggle to exert control over the Vulcans on her staff that wore on her.

Captain Tuvok acknowledged her presence on the bridge with a nod as Janeway took her place at the science station. Tom Paris swiveled and smiled a welcome before turning his attention back to the helm.

Janeway braced herself as the ship convulsed again. On the viewscreen the planet came into view looking as ghostly and dead as a lunarscape...or dead as Earth now looked. A pang passed through her at the thought. Even though Earth had been destroyed well before she was born, she felt a deep loss.

And now even Vulcan was threatened. The Romulans and Klingons had been waging a war of attrition against the Confederation for generations, and recently the Cardassians had added themselves to the list of enemies. _If Vulcan would only lead, or had let Earth take the lead_, Janeway thought acidly.

Vulcan had founded the Confederation out of the logical necessity of a military alliance. But Vulcan remained xenophobic, inward looking, and reluctant to give direction. Earth had called for a united Starfleet that would keep the peace for all member worlds. Vulcan had pushed instead for an alliance of separately maintained and autonomous fleets. With the destruction of Earth and most of her fleet battling V'Ger and the necessity of using what few ships were left to protect and supply far-flung colonies, there were now more humans serving on Vulcan ships than in their own fleet. Indeed, many Vulcan ships now found themselves crewed mainly by humans.

_For all their vaunted pursuit of reason and logic, Vulcans aren't drawn to exploration as we are—they wouldn't be able to fill their ships without us. Of course, Vulcans might point out it's that very itch to explore that came back to bite us_. She found it bitterly ironic that their ship, one of the first Vulcan ships to be given an Earth name, was named "Voyager"—the same name as the early space probe that returned to cause so much destruction as V'Ger.

The Captain's comm whistled. "Captain, Vorik here. Commander Stevek has rendered the officer on duty in the transporter room unconscious and beamed down to the planet."

Janeway turned to watch her Captain. Given how closely Humans had been working with Vulcans, all who served on her ships were aware of what for centuries had been closely guarded cultural practice. Vulcans did not speak of it to outworlders, but everyone on the ship, Human and Vulcan, knew the implications for First Officer Stevek of the death of his bondmate although no one had known he was this close to Pon farr. Janeway found it hard to understand why Stevek had allowed things to go so far without help. Had Stevek, with the instincts of an animal, run away to die?

Tuvok rose and snapped out orders as he moved to the turbolift. "Lt. Janeway, Mr. Paris, with me. T'Lel, call Ensign Kim, Lt. Commander T'Hela and Healer S'Fal, and tell them to meet us in the transporter room for landing party duty."

Two of the few unbonded Vulcan females on the ship, Janeway noted. She was curious as to why Tuvok included any Humans in the landing party. But then, maybe he felt that in his condition, Stevek would see any male Vulcans as a threat. He might even fear that Stevek in his madness would not respect the bond of any female Vulcans—and strangely enough, Tom Paris and Harry Kim were Stevek's closest friends on the ship—as she was T'Hela's. Stevek, along with T'Hela, had been one of the few Vulcans on the ship who had sought out the company of Humans and tried to understand their ways.

Janeway felt the familiar swirl of excitement at the prospect of a new planetfall. This was why Humans eagerly sought to serve on Vulcan ships in spite of the lack of opportunities for advancement, rigid Vulcan discipline, and harsh ship conditions. It was a chance to do more than supply Earth's remnant colonies—to be explorers rather than just truck drivers and cops. However, because the war was demanding more and more resources, some in the Vulcan government were calling for scaling back scientific exploration and research. Janeway feared a largely human-crewed VSA would be one of the first targets.

v v v

They beamed down to the same coordinates set on the transporter by Stevek, right to the center of the waves of time disturbance that had first drawn them to the planet. Those waves played havoc with readings from the ship. Unfortunately, it wasn't much better on the ground with their handheld tricorders. Silently the party fanned out in search of Stevek.

Above them was a cloudless sky full of stars. Before them were plains that stretched to the horizon. Ruins and indiscriminate rubble were scattered all about them. The most prominent feature was an irregular torus-shaped structure that glowed from some inner source.

Janeway tried not to observe T'Hela too obviously. Years of experience in serving with Vulcans in general, and T'Hela in particular, allowed her to detect the subtle signals of expression and posture that revealed her friend's disquiet. T'Hela was more readable than most Vulcans in any case. Janeway knew T'Hela felt strongly drawn to Stevek. She wondered why Stevek had not just discreetly sought out T'Hela.

But then, his bondmate's death had been both recent and violent. Janeway winced at the memory. Vulcans were not susceptible to the Klingon's mindsifter. So with Vulcans, they resorted to more "old-fashioned" means—torture and rape. T'Paya, her throat slit, was left where she would be sure to be found. Not surprising that all that had disrupted Stevek's cycle. No doubt Stevek was not thinking very clearly right now. Even a Vulcan would acknowledge the cause as sufficient.

_Or he's just decided to die_. Janeway forced her mind away from that line of thinking. For all that Vulcans denied to Humans they felt emotion, it was notable how often one half of a bonded pair did not long survive the death of the other. Healer S'Fal, on the other hand, as a disciple of Kolinahr, was beyond the passions of Pon farr. She could hardly serve as a mate for Stevek, but at least she could stand by coolly unaffected.

Janeway frowned down at her tricorder. "Captain, the source of the time distortion is coming from that one object, yet I'm not reading any energy emanating from it. How can that be?"

A BEFORE YOUR SUNS BURNED HOT IN SPACE AND BEFORE YOUR RACES WERE BORN, I HAVE AWAITED A QUESTION.

The powerful voice did not come from the structure—it surrounded them on all sides.

"Who are you?" Tuvok asked.

I AM THE GUARDIAN OF FOREVER.

BEHOLD.

A fine mist formed within the structure and thickened, finally shaping itself into images of Vulcan's often violent history. Quickly it jumped from to battle to battle, from massacre to massacre, in scenes that had a depressing sameness until an image disclosed Surak at the Conclave at Gol.

All along, she had been scanning the object. When she looked down to check her readings, she realized that by doing so she had been recording living history. Janeway sent up a silent prayer to whatever deities existed that what she was recording wasn't beyond the capacity of her tricorder.

The images then shifted, and as they did, Janeway bit back a cry. The history of Earth, her forever-lost homeland, appeared before them. The slow struggle from barbarism to the beginnings of a civilization on the brink of a space age flowed before them. _All for nothing_, Janeway thought bitterly.

Stevek suddenly erupted from behind one of the pillars. Faster than even another Vulcan could react, he flung himself within the portal. The images winked out as he disappeared within the mists.

"Captain!" Ensign Kim cried out. "I have lost contact with Voyager."

"Explain," demanded Tuvok.

"They've simply vanished," Kim replied.

HE HAS CHANGED WHAT WAS.

"Guardian, can we follow Stevek back in time and attempt to put things right again?" Janeway asked.

YES, MANY JOURNEYS ARE POSSIBLE. LET ME BE YOUR GATEWAY

"Guardian, if we succeed, will we be returned?" Tuvok asked.

ALL WOULD BE AS IT WAS.

Tuvok gathered all of them together. "Commander T'Hela: Lt. Janeway and I will attempt to find Commander Stevek and prevent or undo the damage he has done to our timestream. Ascertain how much time we can stay here based on supplies on hand, and if we do not return by the time that period is halfway through, then you and Lt. Paris must attempt the same, and then Mr. Kim and Healer S'Fal in their turn. Use your tricorders to make sure you arrive before Stevek does. T'Hela, you at least have the advantage of having been born and raised among humans. Healer S'Fal, if you must make the attempt, you will have to rely on Mr. Kim completely. He will be in charge. Do all of you understand?"

"Captain Tuvok," interjected S'Fal, "given the human propensity for violence and emotional indulgence..."

Tuvok cut her off. "Do not question my authority in this, S'Fal. I am aware that giving a Human authority over a Vulcan is unprecedented. However we are dealing here with Earth, her people and history. Given your background, I doubt your ability to have much insight into what may be required. I do not think you would be the right member of the pair to be in charge in spite of your seniority."

S'Fal inclined her head. "I submit to your logic, Captain."

"Good luck Captain, Kate," called Paris. T'Hela hailed them with the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Tuvok, Janeway."

Janeway and Tuvok stood before the gateway into time. Janeway moved her eyes between the images in the reformed mists and the tricorder to give the word when to leap. "Now!" Janeway cried, and she and Tuvok linked hands and leapt within.

v v v

Garish colors, a babble of voices and blares of horns, strange smells, and the jostling of the crowd engulfed them. In front of them was a wide thoroughfare split in half by a concrete island with a small squat structure sitting on it. Signs marked it as a military recruiting station. Surrounding them on all sides were giant gaudy billboards advertising everything from Calvin Klein Jeans to a movie called "ET: The Extraterrestrial." Janeway found she was still tightly gripping Tuvok's hand in her own and it took an effort for her to let go of that anchor.

"Do you recognize where we are, Lieutenant?"

"It looks like vids I've seen of Times Square in the New York City of the late Twentieth Century." Janeway grinned. "That would explain why we're managing to not draw much attention—probably the only other city in late Twentieth Century America that would take any such bizarre sight as us in stride would be San Francisco." Indeed, when they had appeared in the midst of the crowded street the only reaction had been a couple of double takes and a shake of a few heads—as if their owners were trying to clear themselves from a touch of vertigo. Even Tuvok's ears barely got a second look.

"For now, until we get oriented, I will have to follow your lead," Tuvok said. "What do you recommend?"

Janeway squared her shoulders and began to briskly tick off the order of business to Tuvok. "We must set up shop here as quickly as possible. That means rooms, electronic equipment, food, and especially..." Janeway moved her eyes over both their uniforms. "dressing like the natives. And that means money." At Tuvok's inquiring look she explained, "Tokens of exchange for work or goods traded. Think Ferengi—they have a similar economic system. I don't know how long we may be here but we're going to need 'seed money.'"

Janeway glanced down at her grandmother's heirloom ruby ring. She swallowed hard, knowing what duty required of her, and decided to hunt down a policeman and ask for directions to a reputable pawn shop and perhaps a safe place to stay for the night.

v v v

It wasn't too easy setting up shop. Fortunately it was late enough in the twentieth century to be able to get cheap and accessible electronic equipment. She and Tuvok quickly got jobs as programmers with enough in wages to sustain themselves and obtain the computers Janeway struggled to adapt to their need. She was grateful that at least they hadn't set down in the age of vacuum tubes.

She and Tuvok had checked police stations and hospitals as discreetly as they could. It wasn't as if they could just inquire about any recent patients or inmates with green blood and pointed ears. They placed a circumspect ad in some of the papers—not just for Stevek's sake but in case their shipmates had to come in search of them. Both of them chafed at the time it took them. As the weeks passed, Janeway feared that Stevek might have already arrived and stolen their future out from under them without their knowing. Janeway could only hope the Guardian had placed them where they could make a difference and hope the data in her tricorder could help them sort things out.

Janeway also had personal reasons for hoping this interlude would soon come to an end. All they could afford in those first weeks was a small, one room efficiency. In their close quarters, she was finding herself aware of Tuvok in a way she had never been before. He seemed to fill up the entire space. It seemed she couldn't turn sideways without brushing up against him. No matter how early she awoke, he'd be up already—there was no time or space in that apartment that was hers. Given the Vulcan need for privacy, her own territoriality, what she should have felt was annoyance. But the source of her disturbance was quite different. She'd notice his strength and grace as he went through Vulcan martial exercises. She would start as she caught herself staring at him. From the corner of her eye she'd sometimes catch him looking at her with an unsettling concentration that caught at her breath. She found it hard to sleep and found herself listening intently in the dark to the cadence of his breath going in and out from across the room.

_Careful, Kate—getting involved with a bonded Vulcan—and your commanding officer is *not* smart_. She thought ruefully that even though it had been a long time since she had been with someone, she didn't think she'd be so desperate that Tuvok would start looking good to her. She decided it must just be the stress they were under.

She had always found him stiff and inflexible on the ship. Although now that she was spending so much time with him, she saw nuances to his behavior she had never noticed. A kind of dry humor in his observations of life in Twentieth Century New York City, the way he was able to relate easily to their coworkers and pick up idioms at their job, or even the way he let her take the lead in so many of the decisions small and large they made here. Without other Vulcans around, he slowly seemed to be loosening up his rigid command demeanor. And he never once complained about an air that must of felt like soup, or the frigid temperature of their apartment. She hated to admit it, but he seemed to be adapting to their surroundings better than she was.

There were other complications. One day Tuvok returned from work with an eye swollen shut. He had been rousted by two police officers who claimed to find his movements suspicious. One of the officers made the source of his suspicions very clear. Janeway did not relish having to decode for Tuvok the references which she knew all too well from the literature of the period. When she finished explaining, Tuvok held himself very still and a tense silence mounted.

"Lieutenant Janeway. If you knew of this cultural proclivity of your people, you should have warned me that my dark coloring could place me in difficulty."

"It's not as bad here as it once was or ever will be again, and it's not something you could do anything about." Janeway knew her response was inadequate. She felt an acute embarrassment as well as anger at herself for not being upfront about the problem. Oh yes, she had known. She felt the shame turn into rage at Tuvok's condemning silence.

Janeway's face burned. _Now at least you have a taste of the prejudice Humans on Vulcan ships endure every day_. "It is unfair to judge us so! Earth is not Vulcan. Our geography is more varied, separating us and causing different challenges. You have never had the cultural variety; the different languages, ideologies, and creeds we had. You never had the unequal and uneven distribution and development of technology that lent itself to exploitation between different populations. Before Surak, your history is more violent then any on pre-Space Age Earth. You wiped out entire clans." Janeway's voice trailed off, embarrassed. Why did she feel the need to defend this?

"I will not be lectured this way. What do you know of Vulcan?" There was a clipped, stiffness to the words and a coldness in his face she hadn't seen since the ship. Janeway felt slapped.

She hurled words back in accusation. "What little you have allowed outworlders to know. Everything I could read in the ship's databanks and what I could glean from T'Hela. More than you have bothered to learn of Earth's cultures and history in spite of over two-thirds of your crew being human."

"This gets us nowhere," Tuvok snapped. "What progress are you making with the tricorder data?" he said softening his tone.

Janeway sighed. "I loaded the data into the sort program I created. There's still a lot of information I'll have to go through myself. It may be a while before I'm able to give you any leads into exactly what Stevek did."

"It is not enough to know what Stevek may have done. I need to know the full context of both futures in order to avoid our inadvertently interfering in the timeline ourselves."

v v v

Tuvok left to sleep, but Janeway was restless and wanted to continue sifting through the data. The information was fragmentary and she wasn't sure what sources the Guardian drew from. It was a reference in a late twenty-first Century history text that put the stream of events into context for her and where she found the first reference to what could be Stevek. A berserk individual had appeared from nowhere in 1982 and assaulted two people. He was shot by police and taken to an emergency room where his alien nature was discovered. _Hard to miss the green blood at least._

Stevek had escaped from confinement, but not before several samples had been taken of his blood and several medical tests had been run. The incident had been classified, but a government scientist, Parul Singh, had a breakthrough in genetics as a result. _Of course, the first chance to examine a truly alien physiology and genetic structure couldn't help but act as a Rosetta Stone_. He had found a way, later lost and unknown in both futures, to alter the genetic material even after birth. He sold that knowledge to the highest bidders, and in instituting his discoveries, created a race of supermen. This had to be it—her timeline had no Eugenics War—no World War III. If Tuvok and Janeway couldn't prevent Stevek's capture, billions would die who hadn't died before.

Holding to Tuvok's instructions, she settled herself down to read how these wars affected later events. She felt more and more disquiet the further she read. Terrible technologies had been unleashed in those wars and terrible destruction. But those technologies lent themselves later to the opening up of the solar system and humans' discovery of the space warp over a century before it had been discovered in her own timeline. The terrible destruction had changed the very fabric and ethos of human culture and governance. The system created was not unlike how things had eventually developed on her own Earth except it had taken much longer. In her timeline, Vulcan had swept by Earth and catalogued her as early as the late 21st Century, but the Humans were not contacted because the Prime Directive forbade contamination of primitive, non-spacefaring cultures.

Janeway flipped back and forth between the different timelines. In one, a Starfleet command team of Kirk and Spock had saved the Earth more than once and managed to make the galaxy safe for IDIC—well, if not single-handedly, then as part of a Starfleet her timeline had barely dared envision. In that timeline, Earth still was inhabitable and the cornerstone of the Federation.

Together, Kirk and Spock had even made peace with the Klingons. (After, Janeway noted with satisfaction, Kirk had kicked them in the pants several times.) By her time, Klingons had been so closely integrated into the Federation they were even serving on her ships! Janeway choked at the thought of working side by side with a Klingon. She envied what she could read between the lines of the depth and commitment of the partnership those two, Human and Vulcan, had with each other. After Kirk's death, Spock went on to have a distinguished career as an ambassador, building a bridge between the Romulans and the Federation. Janeway bookmarked for later reading a joint biography of the pair by Istannor, apparently the premier historian of this "Federation."

Janeway looked through the records of her own timeline. She felt her throat constrict. In that timeline Spock, a union of Earth and Vulcan, had never been born. Kirk had died as a boy in a holocaust on Tarsus IV, awaiting a rescue that, without Starfleet, never came.

What do I do now? Will Tuvok see it as I do? That it is this future that is worth preserving—not just for Earth's sake but also for Vulcan's? Can Vulcan pride admit it needs Earth?

Janeway then searched to see if there was a Voyager in the other timeline. When she found the reference, she felt as if as if an iron hand had squeezed all the breath from her lungs. She felt profoundly disoriented.

She couldn't keep this to herself until morning. Janeway went and woke Tuvok. She watched him closely as she explained what she had found.

Janeway pointed to the text on the computer monitor. "See...here, there's no mistake. The timeline that includes the Eugenics War and World War III has First Contact between Earth and Vulcan in 2063—a full century earlier than it happened in our own future. Thus Earth was a founding member of the alliance, which in this case grew to become a more closely knit, expansive, and powerful Federation. One with a Starfleet strong enough to keep the peace.

Nor is the Kirk-Spock pairing the only example of the value of Human-Vulcan teamwork—simply the most famous and fruitful. Among others was a Human-Vulcan team that invented the transporter a century and a half before our timeline. There must be something about the combination of Vulcan logic and clarity of thought and human imagination and intuition. Almost everywhere you look, there are scientific advances and technologies crucial to the Federation that either were never developed by us or were delayed by decades. We still don't have anything close to their hologram/replicator technology, for instance.

There is something else I need to tell you. There is a 'Voyager' in this timeline as well. That Voyager is commanded by a Captain Janeway, with a Lieutenant Commander Tuvok listed as an officer. The ship is reported 'lost' in the most recent of the records recorded. If we choose this timeline, I'm not sure what will happen to us. Will yet another 'Janeway' and 'Tuvok' be born over three hundred years from now and find their destiny on Voyager? Will we cease to exist once returned by the Guardian to the future, having 'died' on that Voyager?

Tuvok considered her questions. "It may be that we will be stranded in Twentieth Century New York. Furthermore I am not certain that the Guardian will send our crewmates after us or that we could intercept them in time. It may be we cannot even 'choose' this other timeline. Our intervention may cause it to branch yet again. And I am not convinced that this timeline is necessarily the desirable one."

Tuvok raised a hand to preempt her interruption. "We do not know if in the long run, in terms of millennia rather than centuries, our own timeline might not prove the more desirable one."

"Surely logic demands we choose based on what we know rather than on speculation," Janeway said impatiently, immediately regretting the passion in her voice. _That's no way to reach Tuvok._

"I know it is not entirely logic that makes you advocate for a future with a Starfleet, with a living Earth, where you obtain a command of your own," Tuvok replied dryly.

Janeway stiffened. "If we choose this timeline, I will not be choosing that, but exile from my family, friends, time and place or very possibly non-existence," she answered quietly.

"If we choose this timeline, we choose what has never been meant to be. Surely the logical choice is to preserve the original time stream," Tuvok countered.

"It is not the 'logical' choice: the conservative choice, the _safe_ choice, yes. How do you know which future was meant to be? You know that the Confederation is dying—the three Empires will crush Vulcan between them—it is only a matter of time. We can only do what any sentient creature should do. Choose life, and hope. For others even if not for ourselves."

Tuvok actually sighed—a sign of how deeply disturbed he was. Janeway felt a twinge of sympathy at the sound. She held herself stiffly. She could not afford to express a thread of feeling for him. Everything depended on her seeming to be motivated solely by reason and presenting a tightly woven net of logic and fact. The rapport they had built here could help Tuvok trust what she was saying, but only if there was not a whisper of emotional manipulation.

"I must meditate to assimilate and integrate all this information. You will abide by my decision?" Tuvok looked at Janeway for the first time with speculation, as if he was not sure of her answer.

Janeway locked her eyes on his. "Yes, I will."

As she gave her answer, she saw Tuvok's features relax. It was easy, for once, to relinquish control to him. Now that it was a matter of choice.

v v v

"Well, Kathryn. It seems that to save Vulcan we must abandon her and logic itself."

Janeway started at the use of her first name and finally expelled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Respect, Tuvok, but being human does not mean abandoning logic. Logic is a way of processing reality. We simply refuse to believe that emotion does not have a place in that process—and a place in making the reality of life more than mere existence. Nor is it that Vulcan is lost, but rather one is gained that allows a role for Earth and so allows its own preservation. It is not that Earth's way or Vulcan's way is better. It's that we are stronger together. Like Kirk and Spock. Or," she added softly, "like the two of us. Don't both logic and IDIC demand exploring such alternatives?"

"It seems we shall have plenty of time to do so," Tuvok said resignedly.

They would have to remain here for the rest of their lives. Janeway saw Tuvok finger the tips of his ears. _So many changes will have to be made. Can he really adjust to human ways long term_?

Tuvok quirked an eyebrow. "I expect we will live in interesting times, and I think we have much to learn from each other. I hope you do not expect me to learn how to smile?"

Janeway allowed herself a chuckle. "Hmm. Maybe we should work on putting contractions into your sentences first."

_**To be continued **_


	2. Chapter 2

As if Tuvok's decision summoned them, T'Hela and Tom Paris phoned them that day. They had seen the ad in The Times Classifieds: "Tuvok and Janeway to Voyager Shipmates—Please Phone Home. 212-555-9801."

Janeway watched her friends' eyes widen in shock as Tuvok explained the circumstances and their decision. She saw more than shock in T'Hela's eyes—she saw hurt and betrayal. "What of Stevek in all this?" T'Hela demanded. "Are we to just allow him to be shot and left to die?"

"The needs of the many," Tuvok intoned, "outweigh the needs of the few or the one."

"Ah yes," T'Hela hissed, "how often that is quoted by the few when they wish to sacrifice the one in the name of the many."

"Commander T'Hela...," Tuvok reproved warningly.

"You—Kate—you agreed to this?"

Janeway leaned toward T'Hela and looked unflinchingly into two unblinking obsidian eyes. "T'Hela, I worked hard to convince Tuvok of the necessity. I do not see much choice—I care about Stevek too."

"But you think it 'logical' to abandon him." T'Hela's voice was flat.

Paris shook his head. "Kate, I have to say I'm surprised at you too. What happened to the woman who risked her life more times than I can count rather than leave behind one shipmate?

Janeway lowered her eyes to the floor. "I don't think we could prevent Stevek being shot and captured if we tried. If the historical accounts I've read are accurate, it happened very fast."

Paris' eyes narrowed. "But you said he later escaped."

"Yes, we can hope..."

"We can do more than hope—we can make it happen. Why can't we help that little piece of history along?"

"What is the point of sacrificing our futures if we force this timeline to diverge by our own interference?" Tuvok asked.

Paris swept his gaze over all of them. "If we stay here, we _are_ the timeline. We _are_ the past and the present and the future. We _are_ the history of this century and this planet and have as much right to shape our destiny as anyone else."

"Those who live in the present usually don't have a map to the future," Janeway objected. "It's too risky with all that's at stake."

"Well, Kate, that's not your decision in this reality." Paris' eyes glittered. "Hell—we take such a chance if we keep on breathing. Captain Tuvok, sir. How about it? Should we slit our wrists now, or are you just waiting for Harry and S'Fal to show up first?"

Tuvok pointedly ignored Paris' flippant tone. "Very well, Mr. Paris. You have three weeks until Stevek's arrival by Lieutenant Janeway's calculations although none of the historical accounts give the date of his escape. Lieutenant Janeway, show him everything you have about Stevek's capture and detention. I don't know of anyone better suited to plan a 'break-out' than Mr. Paris. We shall give Stevek the best chance of survival we can."

v v v

Hours later, exhausted, Janeway entered her dark bedroom to find T'Hela sitting with her legs tucked unto the windowsill, watching the rain outside with fascination. Her slim figure looked curiously vulnerable perched up there leaning against the window for support.

T'Hela turned a stony face toward Janeway. "Tuvok tells me we shall have to share this room for now."

Janeway drew up a chair near the window and sat down facing her friend. "T'Hela, I am sorry. You are right. I gave up too easily on Stevek. Please forgive me."

One of the things Janeway loved about T'Hela is that she did not, as most Vulcans would have, reply by saying "apologies are illogical." She stared at Janeway a minute and then said, "You who have lived years amongst us, do you truly believe we are without feeling?"

Janeway shook her head. "No. And I imagine that, as with many difficult and exacting paths, Surak's way is often 'more honored in the breach than the observance.' No culture is a monolith, no matter how they might try to present themselves to outsiders. There are always dissenters."

"...and misfits." T'Hela lowered her voice to a whisper. "Stevek and T'Paya believed that Surak's teachings have been perverted. That you cannot reconcile the writings of a man who wished us to bind ourselves to reason with closing ourselves to new realities. That you cannot reconcile the words of a man who wished us to take delight in and learn from diversity with requiring us to all rigidly conform to traditions from a savage past. That you cannot reconcile the acts of a man who gave his life to keep us to the path of peace with the purge of those who peacefully disagree. They believed that Vulcan should not close itself to outworlders and the new ways of thinking they would bring."

"Stevek of all people, then, would understand what we are trying to do."

"Yes, but Stevek and T'Paya were careful only to speak so to close friends and family—the price of doing otherwise is too high. Tell me—what had you heard on the ship of how I came to be born and raised in a Human colony?"

"The Vulcans don't discuss it—at least among Humans. The Humans speculate that your family got separated from Vulcan because of the war."

"My great-grandfather and his followers—the Kro'ni'var—were forced into exile from Vulcan because he tried openly to spread the heresies that others dare only whisper to each other. Worse, he acted upon them and flaunted emotions openly. He was inheritor to the most powerful clan on Vulcan—the clan of Surak. It was a scandal and played into the hands of those resisting a call for a more closely bound interstellar alliance with a common Starfleet. 'This is what comes of contact with Humans,' they said. His father had wanted to remarry—a Human woman he had met while serving as Ambassador to Earth. It would have been the first such union—but the Clan Matriarch after that refused permission. The Clan does not acknowledge that he was ever born. They have erased his very existence."

T'Hela looked away from Janeway and out into the street. "I wanted to know my own people so I returned to Vulcan to try to reclaim clan-right. The price of staying on Vulcan was to renounce my family and cleave to the path. Even so I did not gain clan membership or my inheritance—only Vulcan citizenship. They even placed in me a mindblock against my saying Great-Grandfather's name." T'Hela bowed her head. "The path is a hard discipline even for one who was trained to it from birth. I began too old."

"From what I have seen, you have kept discipline."

"A Human might be so deceived. I found that Vulcan could never be my true home. I was out-clan and no one wished to bond with me. I was cleft in two—of Vulcan descent but of Human heritage. The VSA, the only place where Humans and Vulcans work together, was the only possible place I could feel at home."

"Why tell me this now?"

Janeway had to strain to hear T'Hela. "Before she left on that last mission, T'Paya told me she wished us to become sworn t'hy'la so she could adopt me into her own clan. There is no greater gift one Vulcan could give another. You and T'Paya—while she lived—were the sisters of my heart. I have no other now but you."

"Nor I." Janeway thought of her own sister, forever lost to her on the other side of the time portal. She dared to reach out and take T'Hela's hands in both of her own. "I swear I will do all I can to bring Stevek back to us."

In the light streaming from the street Janeway could see that T'Hela's face remained expressionless—but through the touch T'Hela let her feel a smile.

v v v

Two weeks later, while Tom Paris was shopping for a "getaway car," as he called it, Harry Kim showed up with S'Fal in tow.

This time Tuvok's recitation went over even less well than before.

S'Fal rose from her seat. "No—I do not accept your logic. I doubt your sanity. I demand that you give me your thoughts. As Healer, it is my right."

Tuvok bowed his head and acquiesced. S'Fal placed her fingers on Tuvok's meld points. Her hawkish visage made S'Fal look like an attacking bird of prey. Janeway shivered. There was something about the posture of the familiar meld process that was already beginning to disturb her. A shudder went through Tuvok's frame. Then Tuvok's face creased in agony and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

T'Hela rushed to Tuvok's side, yelling "Kroykah!" She pried S'Fal's fingers from Tuvok's face and threw her away from Tuvok. S'Fal sprang back to attack T'Hela, but Tuvok rose behind her and used the Vulcan nerve pinch. S'Fal melted to the floor.

Tuvok moaned and shook his head between his hands.

Janeway reached out toward Tuvok but T'Hela prevented her. "Do not touch a Vulcan in such a state—it is not safe for either of you."

"What did she do to him?" Janeway cried, concerned. "A healer's meld is not supposed to cause such pain. Not when neither party is in pain to begin with."

Tuvok raised his head and answered. "She went beyond simply trying to verify truth or read my surface thoughts—I could feel my very katra being fingered by her probe."

"She should have her mind melding centers wiped for this," T'Hela said.

"I consented," Tuvok answered calmly.

"Not to this," T'Hela countered.

"There is no harm done. She simply overreacted to disturbing news."

"Overreacted?" Kim interjected. "I know hate when I see it. She hates us. I thought those who achieve Kolinahr are without emotion."

Janeway didn't miss the wary look T'Hela and Tuvok exchanged at that remark.

Tuvok easily lifted S'Fal into his arms. "T'Hela—I will require your assistance with S'Fal. Follow me please." T'Hela followed Tuvok into his room.

v v v

"Oops—Looks like the grownups have something to keep from the kids." Kim winked at Janeway.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Janeway replied grinning.

"No—much worse—we're in New York City."

"Well one thing both those places have in common—they're on Earth—a place neither of us ever hoped to see."

"Yeah, well—we're in the right place—wrong time. Although I bet Tom doesn't agree—this entire century is his hobby. He must be in heaven."

Janeway clapped him playfully on the shoulder. "C'mon—I'll cook us up two of my famous omelets. Food made with fresh produce from Fairway and Zabars sure beats the food synthesizers any day."

"I thought you hated to cook," Kim said.

"I did—until I got a taste of Tuvok's cooking—after that I developed a quick interest in the culinary arts. Besides, hating it doesn't mean I'm bad at it."

Kim's eyes took in the dimensions of their new apartment. Janeway and Tuvok had moved here a few days before T'Hela and Paris had arrived. The short time Kim had spent trying to find a place to stay had impressed upon him how much New York City space was at a premium. "Say, how are we able to afford all of this?"

"Well, a little discreet investment of our Silicon Alley wages—not that they'll be calling it that until a decade from now—into the commodities market can go a long way when you have centuries worth of Wall Street Journals lying around on your hard drive." Janeway looked down at the ring she had been able to reclaim from the pawnshop with satisfaction.

v v v

Janeway was waiting for T'Hela in their room. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"I could not tell you S'Fal's story even if I knew it. That is her tale to tell if she so chooses. But I do know that the discipline of Kolinahr is extreme, and not undergone unless one is driven to it by a complete loss of control."

"I don't pretend to understand her."

"Kate, have you ever wondered why Vulcans do not eat meat?"

Janeway frowned at the seeming change of subject. "I always understood it was because of ethical considerations."

"No—it is because we are predators by nature, and we take care not to partake of anything that would inflame us. We are driven to extremes to control emotion because we are an extreme people. Without Surak we would be no better than the Romulans."

Janeway grunted. "Isn't that exactly what they are? Vulcans without Surak?"

"Perhaps. It would comport with legends of 'the lost.' It is hard to tell when our only contact is corpses—theirs and ours. Under Surak's way we do not express emotion except within a bond and in highly ritualized ways. We use techniques such as meditation and mental disciplines daily to examine ourselves and purge any excessive emotion. Every Vulcan who follows Surak's path pays a price, but those who obtain Kolinahr pay a far steeper one."

T'Hela paused, and Janeway stood still, silently encouraging her to continue. She was afraid that if she drew a breath T'Hela would remember it was a Human she was telling this to.

T'Hela went and sat down on her futon next to Janeway's bed. "Here in New York City, Paris and I have seen people living on the streets who are obviously delusional. While we were searching for you and Stevek, I asked a social worker why there are so many left in that state in a relatively affluent society. She told me many of them choose to remain mad and live on the streets rather than be forced to take the antipsychotic drugs that would bring them sanity. Those drugs act by blocking neurotransmitters such as serotonin and dopamine in the brain. Those medicated with them feel like they are wrapped in cotton—neuroleptics prevent creative thinking, and emotions are blunted and pushed down. The result is indifference and apathy. She told me that the 'sparkle, vitality and exuberance of being alive' are cut off by these drugs.

Kolinahr is much the same. The techniques they teach at Gol will prevent Pon Farr altogether and allow an initiate to control physiological reactions—including those accompanying emotion. A Kolinahr initiate could stop his own heart at will—let alone prevent sexual desire. But Kate—no creativity—no art—no science—no family—only a sterile stasis is possible then. Gol is the one place on Vulcan I would have been admitted to without question—and the one place I never wanted to be. It is too high a price to pay for peace. Whatever S'Fal's story is—it is a tragedy."

"Are you asking me to pity her?" Janeway asked incredulously. "It was you who was so outraged by her behavior not long ago."

"No—no Vulcan would ask for or want pity. I simply inform you that it may be wise to withhold judgment. Tuvok reminded me that we do not know her full context."

"Are you asking me to trust her?"

"No, Kate—for I do not. The discipline of Kolinahr has been known to unravel if a practitioner leaves Gol. Those who are completely without emotion have problems in making decisions or exercising good judgment. That is why Gol is so austere and isolated. Those who break Kolinahr are often dangerous if they have not resolved what brought them there in the first place and achieve integration. They can become the Vulcan equivalent of a Human sociopath—and they have full mastery over mind and body. They have purpose but no compassion. If that is what is happening or has happened to S'Fal..." T'Hela shuddered. "It would make her a terrible enemy to have."

"Hmm—maybe we'd better hold off trusting her to bob yours and Tuvok's ears."

"T'Hela's hands flew up to her ear tips. "Is that really necessary?"

"Winter won't last forever," Janeway teased. "Soon you won't be able to hide them under a wool hat. There's a limit to what even New Yorkers can take in stride."

"Kathryn, this is serious. Tuvok is with her now."

"Is that safe?"

"We've put her under restraints and used some of the medicine she brought with her to sedate her. Tuvok told me to go and rest. When I wake, I will stand vigil and he will sleep. No unconscious Vulcan should be left alone."

"When will she recover?"

"Tuvok is not sure." T'Hela covered a yawn with her hand. "Good night, Kathryn."

"Good night, T'Hela."

v v v

When S'Fal awoke, she begged pardon for her lack of control and the clumsiness of her meld. Tuvok appeared to accept her explanation. None of them trusted her now, but neither did they want to face life here without a physician. T'Hela wanted to do a probe of her own of S'Fal's intentions, but Tuvok overruled her. He feared that S'Fal, with her training and experience, could take over the meld. S'Fal was moved into Janeway's and T'Hela's room. By common consent, no one left S'Fal alone except during her meditation period. Vulcan custom respected that as an inviolate, private matter. Tuvok and T'Hela kept their pointed ears for now.

Finally came the day where a future diverged. Tuvok, Kim, and Paris kept surveillance in a van on the corner of the street and day a "strange green man" had gone berserk. They watched as Stevek erupted into the street and backhanded a pedestrian who jostled him. The man lay crumpled on the street with his head at an odd angle. The street emptied of people as if the area had been swept by a tractor beam. New Yorkers know to get out of the way of danger.

A police officer tried to restrain Stevek and joined the pedestrian on the concrete. That's when his partner shot Stevek in the chest. It was fortunate for Stevek that a Vulcan's heart lies elsewhere. The three VSA officers took note of the name of the hospital on the ambulance and followed Stevek there.

Kim strode nonchalantly into the ER with his doctor's coat and stethoscope. The doctors would not have noticed him if he had walked in naked. Right now they were trying to cope with the sight of green blood. Their shock only deepened when they noticed that even though Stevek had a pulse their stethoscopes couldn't find a heartbeat in the accustomed spot.

Kim's assignment was simple. Get close enough to Stevek to inject a subcutaneous transponder, so they could monitor his movements and listen in on any conversations around him. Then get out. Kim winced while he watched the doctors swarm around Stevek and inject something into his IV drip. It would be a wonder if Stevek wasn't killed by a reaction to such drugs before they could extract him. Paris didn't want anyone but Humans involved in this part of the operation or the later rescue. Tuvok concurred—the last thing they wanted to do was provide the scientists with another specimen.

Kim fingered the hypo in his pocket and wondered when Stevek would ever be left alone. All he needed was a moment. He sidled over near Stevek as they transferred him to a gurney. Kim tripped himself over the gurney and fell over Stevek. Unseen, his left hand pressed and discharged the hypo into Stevek's bicep. He then allowed himself to fall onto the floor, and the others pressed onward with their patient, hardly bothering to leave a curse behind them. Kim cheerfully picked himself off the floor and disappeared out the ER entrance.

v v v

Tuvok, Paris, and Kim returned to find a grim pair meeting them at the door. S'Fal was gone. They had left her alone in their room to meditate. T'Hela was in the workroom using the computer while Janeway sat on the floor against the door to their room. Knowing the time of the crucial event had come and passed, they both felt a sense of relief and confidence that S'Fal was no longer a threat.

Suddenly Janeway "knew" that S'Fal was gone. She flung open the door only to be met with a Vulcan nerve pinch. S'Fal had implanted the thought in Janeway through the closed door. It was a little harder to subdue T'Hela, but the result was the same. While the two women had lain unconscious, S'Fal had reformatted their hard drives, and stolen their disks and tricorders. Fortunately, the men had two with them—and all had the precious time data within them. In time, the information could be recovered.

"Well," Paris grimaced, "at least she didn't perform Tal'shaya on you both while she had the chance."

That earned him a glare from Janeway. "Thanks a lot, Tom. I already feel like enough of an idiot."

"Vulcans are generally touch-telepaths." Tuvok reminded her. "You had no reason to think she could affect you through a wall, and S'Fal had not given us enough reason to treat her as a prisoner."

"I don't get it," said Kim. "The important event was today—if she wouldn't or couldn't interfere there, then what's the purpose of all this?"

"As Lieutenant Janeway has pointed out, there is little chance to intervene in that part of the timestream. She may be looking for another way—such as assassinating Parul Singh before he ignites the Eugenics Wars," Tuvok answered.

"You are assuming that she is doing this to return to the original timeline and go home," T'Hela said.

"What other explanation can there be?" Tuvok asked.

"The destruction of the Human race."

"Now come, T'Hela," Tuvok replied, "There is no reason to suspect any such thing. S'Fal is our shipmate."

"To undergo Kolinahr is rare. To leave Gol afterwards is rarer still. That she would then choose to serve on a VSA vessel that she knew would be crewed largely by openly emotional Humans is astonishing, considering that she has never bonded."

"She is an excellent Healer."

"And things began to go wrong on _Voyager_ when she came on board."

"That can hardly be attributed to her."

"It can if she's an informant."

"Are you accusing her of being a Romulan?—that is absurd."

"No, I am accusing her of being a Vulcan: The kind of Vulcan that exiled the Kro'ni'var. The kind who would not allow Humans to reside on Vulcan or allow them to marry within the clans. The kind who resisted a common Starfleet and having Humans aboard VSA vessels. The kind that even when we left were advocating Humans' removal from VSA ships even though it would cripple us. They would love to blame any failures on the presence of Humans. Something is not right with that one. She does not fit."

"T'Hela," Tuvok reproved gently. "None of us aboard VSA ships are typical of Vulcan."

"No, but we tend to be atypical in typical ways. There is none of the ravening curiosity, the seeking out of new life and new civilizations that drives us out among the stars, in S'Fal. I have always sensed something dark there. When she reached for me to render me unconscious, I could sense that dark purpose through the touch."

"Surely there's plenty of inertia in the turnings of history," Paris said. "What could one person really do alone?"

"Plenty," answered Janeway. "Think of all that Stevek has changed by accident. Now think of a determined enemy who has deliberate sabotage in mind and also has a road map of history spread out before her. In the next twenty years Earth will be going through some of the most turbulent and dangerous times in her history. The death throes of Marxist totalitarianism are less than a decade away from beginning, and since the Soviet Empire was armed with nuclear weapons, its dissolution left wonderful opportunities for disaster in its wake. Before twenty years are over—if..." Janeway spit out bitterly, "we are successful—millions will have died in the Eugenics War—S'Fal could seek to make that billions."

"If you are right, it is even worse than that," Tuvok said. "S'Fal is young—amongst us only T'Hela and Kim are younger. Given a Vulcan lifespan, especially that of a Kolinahr initiate and a healer, she could live to strangle the mothers of Kirk and Spock in their cribs. She could be a threat right up to the 23rd Century."

Janeway could not meet Tuvok's eyes. He had tried to warn her that this timeline had its dangers. _No. I will not travel that route over—this is still the only road I see with any hope at all at its end_. She forced her head up. "Then we all have plenty of work to do."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Tom Paris said sardonically.

Tuvok's head shot up. "Mr. Paris, you will treat Miss Janeway and myself with the respect due our rank. Miss Janeway, even given equal rank, is still your senior. In fact, consider her promoted to Lieutenant Commander"

"Humans aren't promoted above lieutenant."

"They are now. Continue in your insubordinate attitude of late, and you'll see I can give field demotions with the same alacrity as field promotions."

"Does it matter under the circumstances?"

"Yes. It matters—to the very existence of your world and your future. To use a phrase I have heard from you, 'if we do not hang together, we shall surely all hang separately.'"

Paris grinned. "Benjamin Franklin—American Revolutionary War. Believe it or not, I come from a long line of those who served under military discipline. I apologize, sir—you are right—I promise to behave."

Before they left the room, Paris crossed to Janeway's side. "Does this promotion mean I can't call you 'Kate' anymore?"

"You can call me 'm'am.'" Janeway retorted sharply.

Paris groaned. It was going to take plenty to get him out of the doghouse now.

v v v

They constantly monitored what was going on with Stevek. The devices Kim had implanted worked perfectly. Stevek had been moved to a part of the hospital with more security, which alarmed Paris. They had working phasers with them, and Stevek's very presence let the cat out of the bag, but Tuvok still wished to minimize the shock to the culture if possible. Stevek would be moved by air transport to Washington D.C. the day after next, and his condition appeared to be deteriorating. They could wait no longer. This time Tuvok put Janeway in charge of the Humans who'd comprise the rescue team. Paris took a good look at both their set faces and forced down his protests.

Janeway preferred to keep it simple. Her badge identified her as a doctor while Kim and Paris were orderlies. Janeway was grateful they hadn't yet transferred Stevek to a more secure institution. They only had to sneak Stevek out of a hospital, not break him out of a prison—still easier said than done without a transporter. With their forged IDs and card keys they had no trouble gaining access to Stevek's ward.

Janeway noticed the video surveillance booth for the floor. With a nod towards it, Janeway indicated that Kim should take care of the person there as well as those in the nurses' station who'd be monitoring Stevak's life readings. She saw no choice but to use their phasers—there was no other quiet way to render the guard and nurses unconscious. Not for the first time, Janeway wished Humans could use that Vulcan nerve pinch.

Janeway and Paris continued into Stevek's room. Janeway grimaced at the sight of the tubes and contraptions Stevek was hooked up to. Paris moved toward the bed and started removing the tubes and needles. Stevek was unconscious, limp and ghastly pale. Soon after, Kim joined them and they did their best to clothe Stevek and stuff him into a wheelchair before anyone could discover anything amiss.

Paris had prepared the operation well, getting schematics of the hospital and doing a reconnaissance of the out of the way corridors and passages a week before. Before long they were wheeling Stevek out of a side entrance and loading him into their van.

Tuvok and T'Hela met them at the door to the apartment. Tuvok lifted Stevek into his arms and carried him to the bed they had prepared, with T'Hela close behind. Tuvok gently pushed T'Hela aside when she attempted to touch Stevek. Carefully he laid his own fingers along the meld points. After a minute he broke contact and heavily raised his eyes to theirs. "He has been in a healing trance with no one to wake him when it was needed. He has slipped into a coma."

"No...I...will...not...let...him...die." Before anyone could stop her T'Hela placed her fingers on Stevek's meld points.

"My thoughts to your thoughts..."

T'Hela's eyes went blank, her face slack.

Tuvok restrained Janeway. "Do not interfere."

"She will die."

"She may—it was her choice—it is Stevek's only chance. She is calling to his katra and asking him to return with her. They will finish this bonded—or dead. If they live, you must be prepared to slap her to full consciousness—as I will do for Stevek."

All of them drew up chairs to begin the vigil that would decide their friends' fate.

A few hours later both figures stirred. Stevek spoke first. "Help...please...hit me...need focus." Tuvok immediately began backhanding Stevek. Janeway winced at the force of the blows.

Then T'Hela opened her eyes. "Please...Kathryn." Janeway moaned and struck T'Hela sharply. "Harder," T'Hela rasped. Janeway gritted her teeth and hit her again and again until an arm reached up and intercepted her arm with a steel grip. "That, my friend, is quite enough." Janeway felt tears of relief well up, but a curious restraint forced them back. _Too long among Vulcans, I guess—such indulgence seems illogical_.

Stevek then shocked the room with his next words. "I felt T'Paya die."

Paris moved to Stevek's side. "I know those foul Klingons..."

"It was not the Klingons who killed her—they were Vulcans."

"Are you sure—might they not have been Romulans?" demanded Tuvok.

"Yes, I am sure, for T'Paya was sure. They are hunting any trace of the Kro'ni'var. Tracing the old family lines to sniff us out. I am sorry I did not trust you, Tuvok—I could not trust any Vulcan on the ship except T'Hela—and I did not wish to draw her into it. Lest of all could I trust the Healers to help me with my condition—I knew from T'Paya's dying thoughts that one of them was their informant."

"S'Fal," Tuvok provided grimly. He glanced at T'Hela. "You were right."

"They did not count on the strength of our bond. I thought I was leaping into the Vulcan past—I thought in my fever to strangle those who killed my wife as they lay in their cribs."

"But what about your Pon farr," blurted Paris.

_Paris you insufferable ass...all the discretion of...a Human_, Janeway thought.

Stevek turned to T'Hela, reaching out and crossing her two upheld middle fingers with his own.

At that, Tuvok quickly and firmly led the Humans out of the room. Janeway saw something flicker for a moment on Tuvok's face. For the first time it fully hit her how much he had given up. _If Stevek and T'Hela had died, he would be the only Vulcan left among us. Even if we lost Kim and Paris, I wouldn't lose as much. He is doubly isolated by command and his alien nature. He will never see T'Pel or his children again. He could die in his next Pon farr if he doesn't find a mate. S'Fal certainly won't help. In a way all of us *are* home except for him—even T'Hela—and as long as Stevek has her, this will be home for him too. All Tuvok can do is go out at night and try to pick out a distant star through the city glare_. Although Janeway thought that this still didn't seem home to her—but then she had never really felt at home anywhere and wasn't sure if she would recognize the feeling.

v v v

A few days later she assisted Paris as he bobbed the Vulcans' ears. Paris had paramedical training and would have to serve as their physician now. Finally it was real to her that they would never return to Voyager. Afterwards she locked herself in her room and for the first time in years she began to sob. It was a mutilation. The Vulcans looked so different without those ears...diminished. _Human_. She realized that did not make her happy. Janeway did not after all want to live in a world without Vulcans...without all the beautiful, terrible, and wondrous variety of the universe they had left behind on Voyager.

The first thing she saw the next day was T'Hela standing against a wall, raptly watching Stevek and Tuvok as they sat talking. There were none of the usual human signals of happiness on her face. No smiles—no laughter. Just a serenity and glow that made all that superfluous. When she walked into the room, Tuvok had looked up at her. Their eyes met and Janeway quickly looked away uneasily.

T'Hela welcomed her with a look. "For the first time, Kate—I understand the joy of being Vulcan. It is not Pon farr that is the Vulcan Heart—the Vulcan soul. Not that I am complaining," T'Hela shot her an impish look. "Nor..." and T'Hela's lips twitched upward a little as she traced the new roundness of a bandaged ear with a fingertip "is it anything other than the bond. Anything is worth enduring as long as I have that."

"I am happy for you, T'Hela." Janeway forced down a pang of envy and jealousy.

"Kate...that does not make thee any less precious to me."

Janeway smiled widely enough for them both.

v v v

Late that night Tuvok found her curled up on the couch in the room they used as an office. She was reading a thick sheaf of papers, comfortably clad in her oversized t-shirt and silk robe and curled up on the couch.

She started guiltily and straightened up, lowering her legs to the floor as Tuvok sat down beside her. His knee brushed hers as he sat down and she could hear his sharp intake of breath. She felt her body warming with her awareness of his closeness. She wondered if his still keen hearing could hear the sudden pounding of her heart and her slightly quickened breathing.

"What are you reading, Kathryn?"

"_Star Trek: To Boldly Go_ It's part of a multi-volume history of the Federation. This one is a joint-biography of Kirk and Spock and the history of their times."

"You are reading it to plan for the future?"

"No—truth is I'm reading it more to give me hope there is a future worth planning for. To nourish my soul. Humans need heroes and a vision of a bright future. We need inspiration and a sense of purpose and adventure. One of my favorite quotes from this century is that 'those who fight for the future live in it now.' So—I'm collecting a little down payment," she said a little wistfully, setting her reading aside.

Janeway smiled at how easily he used her name, how naturally he had come to sit by her side. She thought of how much she had misjudged Tuvok when on the ship. _I tarred him with the brush of my own bitterness. Vulcans are not the only ones who need to put aside their prejudices. He has been far more flexible than I would have guessed. I don't know anyone else who could have led with more integrity and dignity_.

She looked at his face, at those coolly elegant features—except for lips that would mark him as a sensualist if he were human. And human he looked, especially with his dark coloring that would not betray him with a blush. He was stripped of some of his aloofness by the loss of those pointed ears. But not of his dignity—even dressed in a sweater and jeans, Tuvok carried himself as if he were in a dress uniform. _Now this is a man, I would have noticed in any setting. If we were in some bar on shoreleave, it would be easy to sit beside him, ask where he came from, put my head close to his_.

Janeway smiled. "Don't get me wrong, though—I'm not like Khan's future 23rd Century paramour Lt. Marla McGivers, who complained that her time had 'no heroes—no legends' while sitting beside Kirk and Spock—two of the greatest. I don't need to find my heroes in histories. I'm capable of finding them right here and now." _In you_.

She laid her right hand on top of his and he turned it over so they touched palm to palm. She almost pulled back at the shock. She was no telepath. But Janeway could feel the longing and yearning come up through her in waves. She looked into Tuvok's dark eyes and saw a calm that so belied what she felt that she didn't know if she was imagining this. Suddenly she knew that she didn't care. Tuvok, after a long reserve, would not take the initiative any further. No further than to let her feel a thread of desire hand to hand.

She moved a finger, a slight twitch, so one finger rested against his finger in the gesture she had seen so many times between Vulcan couples. She felt as if her body would dissolve in the resulting heat. She twined her fingers with his, and then moved closer, cupping his cheek with her other hand. For a moment they just looked at each other and Janeway thought that he could still pull back. They had done nothing irretrievable. Nothing that two friends might not have been to each other. Then she leaned forward and brushed Tuvok's lips with her own. Just a feather touch. She pulled back and looked at him and this time the emotion in his eyes made her withdraw in embarrassment. Surely she could not be what he wanted. That longing could not be for her. She could only be making him feel his loss of T'Pel. She began to get up but Tuvok reached up and grabbed her arm and drew her toward him.

"Kathryn," he said and Janeway felt a thrill go through her with the sound. It was said clearly, possessively, underlying that he knew who she was and that there was no one else between them. This time there was nothing tentative about the kiss. Humans don't hold the patent on kissing. He drew her head to his with a hand and moved it through her hair as he firmly pressed his lips on hers. He traced her lips with his tongue and she shuddered and opened her mouth to him. As his tongue twined with her own, she felt an animal sound rise in the back of her throat that wasn't quite a moan. She couldn't stop herself. She pressed herself against him shamelessly.

Every curve of hers seemed to fit perfectly in a hollow of his. She could feel his taut erection against her groin and it made her feel beautiful. She felt him slide her robe over her shoulders, and she lowered her arms to let it slip to the floor. Emboldened, she reached for the zipper to his jeans and Tuvok gasped as she daringly took him into her hands.

Tuvok pushed away from her and each of them removed their clothes, uncharacteristically throwing them into a heap on the floor. She laid a hand against his shoulder to put some distance between them. She wanted to see him and felt no shame in her own exposure. Just the sight of him made her stop breathing.

His hands moved to touch her eyelids and throat and then drifted downward. She arched back and spread her legs in invitation. She felt one finger just tease brushingly and went rigid with arousal. She suddenly could not stand the separation. She straddled his hips and guided him into her, rocking fiercely as he held her firmly at her waist. She had cried out at the joining of their bodies that seemed to bridge so much more than mere flesh. She swayed as she could feel herself flash between two perspectives, male and female, Human and Vulcan. She could feel the love and longing so long withheld shared between them and felt she'd shatter when she came. She felt every nerve singing as they both began to shudder together and then limply fell back into each other's arms.

"Indeed, Kathryn," Tuvok murmured contentedly, as if there had been no gap in the conversation, but raising her hand to his lips and kissing each finger. "There is much of value to be found right here where we are."

She could still feel a thrum of contentment and a disorienting overlap of perspectives. "Tuvok, are we linked?"

"No, it is merely what a Human might call an 'afterglow.'"

"That's some afterglow—in fact that was some before and during glow!"

"It is pale compared to what bondmates experience."

"Then I'm not sure I could survive what bondmates experience."

Tuvok quirked an eyebrow and the end of his lips quirked upwards when he saw her grin.

"But, I wouldn't want to die without knowing," she said, making her voice casual.

"Is that a proposition, Commander?"

"Only if you say yes."

"Yes," he answered softly.

Janeway felt a quiet joy and finally, a real sense of homecoming.

The End


End file.
